Other Side of the Mirror
by Destria
Summary: Ch. 5: Evil smiles to go with evil plans, squirming Weasleys and Malfoys, a new member of the Harry Potter fan Club, and a singer without a name...
1. New Reflection

Title: New Reflection  
  
Authors: Destria and Darkrose ( the_keyboard_gang@yahoo.com )  
  
Series: Other Side of the Mirror (Part 1)  
  
Archive: Here on fanfiction, nowhere else. Anyone who wants it, please ask first.  
  
Feedback: Always welcome. With the exception of flames. You flame, we get.what was the word the last person used? Ah, yes. "Feisty".  
  
Warnings: We're writing this under the assumption that everyone has read through 'Goblet'. If you haven't, there may be some things that go a bit over your head. Additional warnings: Will be rather angsty, perhaps fluffy as time goes by. Oh, almost forgot: Draco is potentially a *gasp* sweet guy in this! (Well, with Laine, at least.)  
  
Disclaimer: We don't claim to own the characters (unless noted as original, such as: Laine, Melanie, and anyone else who happens along) used in this story or the school, as those obviously belong to J.K. Rowling. The long and short of it: We don't own the majority of this, if you've read the books and/or seen the movie (as we hope you have, seeing as this is HP fanfiction), you'll know what's ours and what isn't. Please don't sue, you won't get much.  
  
~*~  
  
Silverware clinked dully in the dim dining hall of Mordremark, the Malfoy family's manor. The long, rectangular table was swathed in a cloth of crimson sateen with silvery embroideries around the hem. Draco had once asked his mother what the thread was made of, it wasn't a texture he recognized. Narcissa had said, beaming at her son, that it was Veela hair, very expensive. After that event, he simply didn't ask any more questions about the rooms' furnishings.  
  
Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of the table, buttering a piece of toast as he scowled down the table's length at his children. Narcissa sat at his right, picking at her own toast nervously. The expression she wore, as though something smelled foul in her vicinity, seemed permanently attached to her fair face. The young man, whom Lucius glared so intently at, pretended to be oblivious of that accusing look. Instead, he focused on the plate of eggs in front of him. Sitting directly across from him, a girl with the same long blonde hair that was a trademark of the Malfoy clan tried to disappear into the dark woodwork around her.  
  
She crouched over her own plate of eggs, her hair forming a curtain about her hunched figure, effectively hiding her face from the rest of the room. Draco watched his sister discreetly as she pushed eggs around her plate, making it appear that she was really eating. A soft hooting drew everyone's attention upwards as a large screech owl carrying a paper and an eagle owl swooped over the table towards Lucius. A beat later, a large grey-blue Osprey followed, dropping a letter next to the girl's plate before leaving the hall once again.  
  
"Laine, pull your hair out of your face. None of us can see your lovely eyes." Narcissa ordered from three feet down the table.  
  
Sighing, the girl complied, biting her tongue to keep from commenting aloud. Her straight locks now behind her ears, further family resemblance was obvious. Her piercing ice-blue eyes were framed by surprisingly dark lashes on her slightly pointed face. The biggest difference, however, was that her face wore the shadow of a smile; whereas everyone else in her family looked as though they were on the verge of scowling.  
  
Lucius grasped the letters in his elegant hands and passed all but the paper to his wife, muttering quietly about the bumbling, interfering idiots at the ministry these days. Narcissa separated one letter- a brilliant pink envelope with gold ink and wax seal- from the pile and slid the rest down to the children without looking at them.  
  
"Your school letters," she said simply, tearing into her own bit of gossip.  
  
Laine handed the letter on top to Draco, setting the other two on top of the one her Osprey, Freedom, had given to her, planning on taking them up to her room to read, but the half-covered edge of a coat-of-arms caught her eye. Slowly, as though she were in a daze, she picked up the stiff parchment envelope and slid her finger under the wax seal. Her hands shook as she pulled the lighter parchment from inside out to read.  
  
Not quite believing what she saw, she glanced down and noticed that the second envelope was addressed to her father. "Hey, Daddy?" She called up the table, noting with satisfaction that her father winced at the name. He looked up at her, glaring, waiting for her to continue. "This one's for you." She slid the second envelope at her father with an air of practiced ease (there was an air hockey table in her dormitory common room at her last school), then went back to reading her letter.  
  
"Dear Miss Malfoy,"  
  
Laine winced at the formality of the heading.  
  
"We have recently come to know of your attending the American Institution of Magic in central Wyoming. We are also pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts for the remainder of your education. We look forward to seeing you this September.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Minerva McGonagall , deputy headmistress"  
  
"More like learned of my existence," Laine murmured to herself, glancing at the list of supplies that was behind the first piece of parchment. Most of them she already had, which was good. Some, however, like robes, would have to be bought before the term started.  
  
Lucius, at the head of the table had gone a few shades paler than usual, but no one had noticed. Draco, however, was craning his head around to try and glimpse Laine's letter.  
  
"That doesn't look like the one AIM sends you every year," He said quietly, still trying to look. "Is it a Hogwarts letter? Or-" his face darkened. "Did you somehow manage to get into Durmstrang?"  
  
"Of course not," Laine sighed. "It's from Beauxbatons." Draco's eyes widened. "Oh stop that," Laine snapped. "Here, read it for yourself." She thrust the parchment at him as Lucius cleared his throat.  
  
"I would be happier if it was indeed from Durmstrang," Lucius said evenly, watching his son read the letter. "How, I wonder did that old fool happen to hear about Laine, I wonder."  
  
Draco looked up, his eyes going from haunted to steely in a moment. "If you're implying that *I* had something to do with this, Father, then you've got it all wrong. I haven't said a thing."  
  
"Then how would they know anything about her, then?" Lucius' voice was rising.  
  
"I don't know! It was probably Crabbe or Goyle, the thick gits." He struggled to keep his voice even. Arguing with his father was something even adult wizards had trouble with. Though irritatingly smug, Lucius was a formidable opponent. "I honestly don't know, Father."  
  
His mouth pressed into a thin line, Lucius tapped the letter with the end of his fork. "Fine. Go make yourself presentable, you're taking your sister to Diagon Alley to get all this rubbish."  
  
"Yes, Father," the children replied in unison, standing and pushing their chairs in. As they left the hall they traded a quick smile and muttered as they went their separate ways, "Whatever you say, Daddy."  
  
~*~  
  
Floo powder was by far one of Draco's least favorite ways to travel. They had escaped the manor twenty minutes after that rather eventful breakfast. Laine was wearing her brilliant blue robes from AIM, her eyes lined in dark pencil. Obedient insubordination was the way Laine played her cards, and she did it well. By nature, Draco was a protective older brother, shooting dirty looks at every male who dared look at his sister; not that anyone really noticed, given his usual temperament.  
  
Laine looked around her as they walked down the Alley, eyes wide. Not from awe, but from how much it had changed since the last time she had been there. Considering that she had been nine the last time they had visited Diagon Alley, she wasn't incredibly surprised at the changes that had been made. They approached Gringotts gingerly, in no real hurry to get home again.  
  
She waited outside while Draco went inside to get their money. She sat on the great stone steps leading up to the first set of doors, ignoring the glares from the guarding goblins and curious looks from passersby. After what seemed like forever, her brother returned.  
  
"Honestly, were you counting it?"  
  
Draco made a face. "There were a few of those carts in front of mine. I suppose you could call it a 'traffic jam'."  
  
"If you're trying to be funny, it isn't working," she said tartly. "Where are we going first?"  
  
Scowling, Draco responded, "Well at least I *tried*."  
  
"Yes, dear boy, you tried. But where you try, I succeed. Now answer my question, please."  
  
"Madam Malkin's. Unless you object to that?"  
  
"Me? Object to getting clothes? Draco, I'm appalled. Don't you know that that's all girls think about?" She rolled her eyes as they walked toward the shop, not watching as people moved to let them pass. It was habit more than anything, but it did have its upsides.  
  
Standing on the stool moments later as the witch briskly adjusted the black robe to fit her, Laine noted that these actually fit better than her American ones. And, as she looked in the mirror she saw, they weren't as cold and stiff as most new clothes were.cold and distant, much like her family. Which was, perhaps the biggest reason she disliked new clothes.  
  
Hopefully she looked at Draco. "Dress robes, too?"  
  
He shrugged. "Why not? I have to get new ones, anyway. According to Mother I've grown, and my old ones now hit me at the ankles. She was 'most displeased' with me for it." He took a moment to imitate their mother's voice, getting the pitch almost perfect when his own voice cracked. Laine swallowed a giggle.  
  
"What color, dear?" Madam Malkin asked Laine kindly. When Laine favored her with a blank expression, the woman smiled a little and elaborated. "Dress robes."  
  
"Oh.um." She looked at Draco who shrugged and continued paging through a newspaper he had found sitting on one of the many chairs in the room. "What color would you suggest?" She asked the witch earnestly.  
  
Madam Malkin studied her face, then circled the girl once. Still scrutinizing her, she replied, "I would go with black."  
  
"But my school robes are black." Laine said, not quite understanding.  
  
"Oh yes, dear, I know. But school robes and dress robes are quite different. School robes are meant to be worn often, so they're sturdy. Dress robes are lighter, more flowing. Usually they're made of a nicer material, like satin or a silk taffeta."  
  
"Oh." Laine said quietly. "Well do you have some-"  
  
"As a matter of fact," Madam Malkin interrupted. "I have just the thing. They'll look fabulous on you, I'm sure. Come back here, dear."  
  
Laine followed her into the back of the shop, shooting a scared glance at her brother, who simply raised an eyebrow, as if to say, 'you got yourself into this, you'll get yourself out.' There were times when she wanted nothing more than to throttle him. This was one of those times.  
  
Madam Malkin bade her sit on a stool, then briskly began searching through cupboards. Finally, she held a dust-covered box out to Laine. "I've had these for almost 15 years now. People stopped wearing black dress robes once You-Know-Who was defeated by Harry Potter, that poor boy."  
  
For a moment Laine puzzled over the term. 'You-Know-Who'? Who was she.Oh. The realization was sudden, and she felt like an idiot. The woman must have been referring to the Dark Lord. Then she smiled at the woman who still stood smiling before her. "Well, let's have a look, then."  
  
The pair set the box on a counter and pulled off the lid, revealing a shimmering black puddle of satin. The actual shape of the robes was impossible to surmise, for in the box it looked fluid. Madam Malkin reached inside, and with a flourish, whipped the black satin mass out. It hung from her fingers, looking as though it would float lightly to earth if she had the audacity to let go. Laine's eyes widened, she couldn't help but whistle; another habit she had picked up from her American friends that irritated her father to no end.  
  
"Go put this on while I get the other piece out."  
  
"There's another piece?" Laine asked, moving into a dressing stall to comply to the woman's order.  
  
"Of course there is. You didn't think that strapless robes are acceptable here, did you?"  
  
"Well, no.." Laine murmured, looking at herself in the mirror. "This looks like the gowns American girls wear to formal dances."  
  
"Well, it was an American witch who designed this particular style. Never caught on, though. Come out and get the next piece."  
  
Laine emerged, and Madam Malkin held up what looked like a medieval surcoat.for a Japanese kimono.minus the obi. Slipping her arms inside the gargantuan sleeves, she shrugged the light chiffon up over her shoulders. The neckline was wide and collar-less, the 'v' meeting just under the swell of her chest before flaring out once more. It separated so the skirt of the under-robe shone through. She noted, looking in the mirror again, that the sable chiffon shone an iridescent crimson at certain angles. A pretty play of the light.  
  
"I'm sure you can find a brooch somewhere to pin that surcoat on there," Laine could hear the smile in Madam Malkin's voice.  
  
"Thank you," Laine breathed, moving from side to side to watch the light make patterns on the gown. "Can I show Draco?"  
  
"Be my guest."  
  
Laine wandered over to the door that separated this room from the rest of the shop and called, "Don't you dare laugh."  
  
"Finally," he retorted, slapping the paper onto the seat next to him. "Took you long enou-" he stopped at Laine came into the light. He swallowed a few times, his mouth having suddenly gone dry- making it absolutely impossible to speak. "You're not...not going out in public wearing that, you know." His voice cracked every three words or so.  
  
"Oh I'm not? Whyever for?" Laine spun around to demonstrate the light trick.  
  
"For one thing, that's half strapless, the other half with a plunging neckline. Besides, I won't have my little sister traipsing around like some.some.*American*!"  
  
"What, exactly, is wrong with Americans?" She demanded, voice dangerous.  
  
"You know what I mean, Laine."  
  
"Do I, now?" She looked genuinely amused. "Why wasn't I informed?" Draco could only scowl. "What, would you prefer I was some scheming socialite determined to marry as high into the social pyramid as possible? Perhaps the next Minister of Magic. If you'd rather that, then I could go after Percy Weasley as soon as we get to sch-" She stopped for a moment. "Wait, he's graduated by now, hasn't he? Hmm. Well, no matter. I can always skip off and meet him somewhere."  
  
"Father wouldn't approve," Draco replied wryly, unable to keep from shuddering at the thought of his sister and Percy Weasley.  
  
"I don't give a rat's ass what Daddy thinks," she replied coolly.  
  
"Don't think I hadn't noticed. And you're British. Start speaking like it."  
  
"Or perhaps Percy isn't good enough," she continued, lacing her voice with a thick English accent. "Perhaps I should aim even higher than that.How about.oh, say Harry Potter?"  
  
"Don't joke about things like that," Draco snapped.  
  
"I wasn't joking."  
  
"All right!" Draco held up his hands in the customary sign of surrender. "I give up. You can wear the bloody robes."  
  
She smiled triumphantly. "Why, thank you," then twirled back into the back room to change into her AIM robes, letting Draco rub his temples tiredly in peace.  
  
~*~  
  
The scarlet engine steamed out of King's Cross Station on September first, bound for Hogwarts. Laine was suddenly a little nervous. She searched the train high and low for an empty compartment, but found none. Draco invited her to sit in his compartment, but she had enough memories of Crabbe and Goyle to last a lifetime, she didn't need any new experiences. The last compartment she poked her head into had five people in it already, but it was by far the least crowded of any compartment on the train.  
  
"Excuse me." She said faintly when there was a lull in their conversation, impatiently brushing some hair out of her face. All of the occupants turned to look at her. "Do y'all have room for one more person in here?" She tried not to wince at the slip in her speech. Draco and Daddy had been trying to get her to drop that particular mannerism to no avail. Narcissa had no opinion beyond the point that she thought it was a 'charming attribute'.  
  
They all blinked owlishly at her. She thought she heard someone mutter something about 'Americans' from the corner. Two of the members of this party had red hair and freckles. 'Weasley' her mind screamed. Obviously Ron and Ginny, they were the only two of that particular family still attending Hogwarts. The other girl had brown hair and was reading a rather thick book. Obviously Hermione Granger. Her brother had spoken of her often. That meant that at least one of the other boys was the infamous Harry Potter. She looked around the compartment again, seeing a boy with unkempt hair, brilliant green eyes, and round-framed glasses watching her amusedly.  
  
"Nevermind," she said quietly. "I'll find somewhere else." Inwardly she groaned as she started to close the compartment door. Now she would hav to endure Crabbe and Goyle for the remainder of the trip.  
  
"No, wait," the girl she assumed was Hermione said sharply, closing her book with a snap. "Honestly, one would think you had never met an American before," she told the others, then turned to Laine as Hermione's companions blushed furiously. "Please, have a seat."  
  
"Thank you," Laine murmured, perching on the plush seat by the door. "And actually, I'm not American, I'm English."  
  
"Can't be," Ron said frankly. Hermione glared at him.  
  
"Yes, I can be. I've just spent the last few years in America for school, is all." Laine replied, trying to smile but failing.  
  
"Oh, that's all." Ron muttered, wincing and rubbing his head after Hermione smacked him with her book. "Those things're dangerous, you know."  
  
"For you, perhaps." Was the tart reply. "I figure if I do it often enough, I may knock some sense into you."  
  
The boy in the corner, who Laine thought was Harry had been silent until now. "I'm Harry Potter," He said quietly, smiling at her. "The loud one is Ron, the brunette is Hermione, the red-head is Ginny," he was pointing to each person in turn. "And that one's Neville. Hermione was practicing hexes, so he won't be talking for awhile...or at least until she finds the counter for it."  
  
"I'm looking, I'm looking," Hermione growled, opening her book again.  
  
"I'm Laine," She introduced herself quietly, choosing to leave it at that. "And obviously incredibly talkative," Ron drawled, still rubbing his head.  
  
Laine actually did smile this time. "I'm a little off-balance right now, Ron."  
  
"Mmph?" Neville asked, or rather, tried to ask.  
  
"Why?" Ron translated.  
  
"Nosy," Hermione muttered, running her finger down the page.  
  
"Am not. Neville asked."  
  
"Well, think about it. I've lived in America since I was 9. Only coming back here to visit during Christmas holiday." Not adding that she wouldn't've come back then if it hadn't been an obligation. "And now I've been uprooted."  
  
"What year are you, anyway?" Harry asked, sounding honestly curious.  
  
"Fourth," she said quietly.  
  
"A year below us," Hermione commented absently.  
  
The rest of the trip was pleasant, both she and Harry treated everyone when the witch with the snack cart came around, Neville actually being able to eat some of the sweets (Hermione had eventually found the counter to the hex, for which Neville was incredibly grateful). But like all good things, it eventually came to an end. Laine, not quite knowing where to go, followed Harry and the rest of his companions off the train to where lines of carriages (with what she could only assume were invisible horses) waited for the students.  
  
She followed suit when they all climbed into the carriages, finding that the one she had selected was blissfully empty, and remained that way. She watched the castle loom up before her as the carriage drew closer. It was a lot bigger than the Institution, as the locals had called the school- which they thought was a center for mentally disturbed youth- and perhaps it was its size that made it so breathtaking, but somehow Laine didn't think so.  
  
When she climbed out, she was immediately swept into the flow of students moving into the castle. She let them carry her along, this time gazing around in awe. Once inside the Great hall, she stationed herself in one of the shadows to the right of the doors, letting people stream around her and seat themselves at the four huge tables that took up the majority of the room. Teachers were seated at the table on the dais, and when it seemed that no one else was coming in, the doors next to her boomed open, admitting a stern-looking witch leading a group of scared first-years.  
  
Laine watched, amused, as each student in turn was sorted. When the last first-year had been seated at their house table (Zariah, Quincy- Hufflepuff), a wave of quiet chatter broke through hall. Professor McGonagall had not moved. She still stood before them all, clutching her parchment scroll in one hand.  
  
"Excuse me," she called. Instantly the chatter died. "Is Miss Laine Malfoy present?" "'Malfoy?', 'Malfoy has a *sister*?', 'Another one? Isn't one of them enough?'" Laine heard the whispers start immediately as she began slowly walking up the center aisle. As she passed the Griffindors, she caught looks from the group she had sat with on the train. Ron looked betrayed, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Neville merely shocked. Laine shook her head, keeping her face blank as she felt every pair of eyes in the room focus on her.  
  
"She's not a first-year!" Someone said loudly from the direction of the Ravenclaw table.  
  
"Though she is not a first-year," Professor McGonagall explained to the crowd. "Miss Malfoy has been attending a different school, and as she now attends Hogwarts, must be sorted into a house."  
  
Laine reached the foot of the dais and bowed slightly to the teachers as the other students digested this bit of information, then went to sit on the stool. As she turned and faced the crowd, silence once again overtook the hall. It had been so much easier at the Institution, she thought to herself. None of this 'sorting'. You were just in the dormitory they assigned you, simple as that. She didn't like being singled out like this, but she supposed that she should have expected it. After all, it wasn't as though she could go the next four years without telling anyone her name.  
  
/Hmm./ She heard in her head as McGonagall put the hat on her head. /Another Malfoy. Well, this is easy. SLY-/ the voice stopped. /No.not Slytherin.Gry...Gryffindor./ The voice sounded stunned. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted to the room.  
  
The silence was almost unbroken; no one clapped, no one cheered as she went to sit at the farthest end of the Gryffindor house table.with the exception of Professor Dumbledore. All around the room, the whispers started again.  
  
"A Malfoy? In Gryffindor?"  
  
~*~  
  
End Part 1. 


	2. Glass Cage

Title: Glass Cage  
  
Authors: Destria and Darkrose (the_keyboard_gang@yahoo.com)  
  
Series: Other Side of the Mirror (Part 2)  
  
Note: We forgot to mention this before, the story takes place during Harry and co.'s 5th year. ~*~  
  
Dumbledore continued to clap for a moment, giving his students ample time to continue their whispered conversations as the ratty Sorting hat and wooden stool were carried out of the hall. Laine studied her golden plate intently; perfectly happy to ignore the looks she felt fix upon her. At last, Dumbledore stood, and a hush fell over the room as he smiled out at the school.  
  
"Welcome, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. As I'm sure you're all quite hungry, so I will be brief. All students, not just first years, are to note that the Forbidden Forest is just that, Forbidden; and it is so for very good reason. Now I shall offer my traditional few words: higgledy-piggledy, summer, cacophony! Now, without further ado," He bowed slightly to the crowd. "Enjoy your meals."  
  
Laine gasped a little as the dishes before her were suddenly piled high with food. She stared at the three large platters nearest to her; one with thick slices of ham, then next with mashed potatoes, and the third was a gravy boat.  
  
"What, not quite up to your standards, your highness?" The voice that attacked her was sharp, as though the being usually drawled instead of enunciating each word. "Not fancy enough for your tastes?"  
  
She looked up into two pairs of accusing grey-blue eyes. The boys' sandy blonde hair was cut short, and they were glaring at her as the older one poured gravy over the younger's mashed potatoes. She didn't recognize them, but obviously they were related. Laine chose not to respond to the jibe, and simply tried to smile at the two of them.  
  
"Could you pass the potatoes, please?" The platter was silently slid down to her, followed by the gravy boat. "Thank you." The entire evening was like that. All through the banquet, she could feel peoples' eyes on her, staring, whispering to their friends, wondering what a Malfoy was doing in Gryffindor house.  
  
When the feast was finally over, she followed a stream of Gryffindors out and up. "Heebie-Jeebie" the Prefect in the lead told the portrait of the Fat lady they had stopped in front of. The portrait swung open. She was the last inside, but that didn't bother her much. It gave her a chance to look over the people she would be living with.  
  
She went up the girls' staircase, eventually coming upon the room marked '4th years'. She stepped inside tentatively. There was no one there. Freedom's cage sat on the night table next to a 4-poster near the window. She assumed that this was her bed. Walking over, she sat down, looking around her as she digested all the information this day had brought.  
  
The door opened, and the girl with vibrant red hair from the train walked in. Ginny stopped just inside the doorway, watching Laine with a genuinely curious expression on her face. "Why didn't you tell us you were a Malfoy?"  
  
"Well," Laine began slowly. "How would you have reacted? You wouldn't have much wanted to talk to me after that, would you?"  
  
Ginny frowned. "Probably not."  
  
"Besides," Laine tried to grin at Ginny. "I didn't want to sit with Crabbe and Goyle."  
  
"What about your brother?"  
  
"Draco? What about him?"  
  
"Well, isn't he.doesn't he.I mean."Ginny faltered. "How can you stand to live with him?"  
  
Laine raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same about your brother."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"True." Laine thought for a moment. "I suppose because he's a break from my father. What has he done to deserve such hatred from all of you, anyway? He's really not that bad of a guy."  
  
Ginny looked as though Laine had just said something scandalous. "Not that bad of a guy?" She shrieked. "How can you say that?" She spun and left the room in a hurry, although she managed to shut the door gently behind her.  
  
"Wonderful," Laine growled, flopping backwards onto her bed, staring at the ceiling of her four-poster. "I just lost whatever chance I had of making a friend." She changed into her nightgown, and slid under her blankets, leaving the curtains on the window-facing side open. She stared at the moon for a long time, wondering what tomorrow would be like.  
  
Coming to no conclusion, she eventually drifted into a light, dreamless sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Laine awoke before the sun the next morning. She silently slipped into her school robes and left the room, letting Ginny and the other few girls that shared the quarters sleep a bit longer. This early, the common room was deserted. Not even the most die-hard of academics, namely Hermione, had emerged yet.  
  
She left the tower just as quietly as she had the dormitory room, slipping through the castle to the Great Hall as the rest of Hogwarts' populous began to stir. Laine was happy to see bagels and cream cheese on the table for breakfast, and helped herself to one as she sipped a glass of pumpkin juice. Surveying the hall around her, she noted that only a few of the professors were up this early. Amused, she polished off her first bagel, and helped herself to an apple.  
  
A pile of parchment lay near her on the tabletop. Curiously, she scooted over and glanced at them. Class schedules. These were the ones for seventh years, though.Getting up, Laine walked a third of the way down the table before finding the pile marked '4th years'. Hers was at the bottom of the stack. Grasping it firmly, she returned to her original seat as a few other groggy students filtered through the doors into the hall. She was examining her schedule when a familiar drawl interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"Father will be furious."  
  
"Good. At least there's something I've accomplished, and school hasn't even started yet," she replied without looking up.  
  
"Laine," her brother said, sitting down and looking around discreetly. "Come on."  
  
"Come on what? And you might want to be careful, Draco, these Gryffindors don't seem to like you much."  
  
"Ha, that's an understatement. Anyway, I'll be fast. Just.be careful, all right?"  
  
"They're not barracudas, Draco. It's not like they're going to bite. Not hard, anyway."  
  
He arched an eyebrow. "I'm not amused."  
  
"Only because you have no sense of humor."  
  
"I happen to have a keen sense of humor, thank you very much," he retorted hotly.  
  
"Yes dear," she patted his hand. "I'm sure you do. Now run along, the other Gryffindors are coming in."  
  
Draco glared at her, then sauntered over to the Slytherin table, masking his face with his usual petulant scowl. He sat down heavily next to Crabbe, ignoring Pansy, who was on his other side. She was as simpering as ever, and God, how it irritated him. Still ignoring them, he watched his sister with a critical eye.  
  
She smiled when her Osprey, 'Freedom' -horrid name, really- swooped down to deliver another letter from Laine's friend Melanie in the states. After the bird flew out again, Laine looked absolutely impassive, as though she didn't hear the rising buzz that filled the hall; didn't see the many people about her laughing and carrying on.  
  
As a particularly large wave of people came into the hall, Laine rose to go, holding the still unopened letter in one hand. She started to walk away from the Gryffindor table when someone called her name.  
  
She turned, expecting someone to launch something at her.a piece of buttered toast, or perhaps something soggy. It was habit to be wary when someone addressed you in any room there happened to be food, or at least, it had become habit to those at the Institution. Ron Weasley gestured for her to come sit next to him.  
  
Her eyes slightly wider than usual, she edged over to where he sat, perching on the very edge of the bench, ready to run if need be. "Yes?" She asked politely.  
  
Ron seemed to study her for a moment, thoughtfully chewing his toast. Harry, seated next to him, glanced at Laine, then shook his head, turning back to his breakfast. Hermione shot Ron a look, then returned to her own breakfast, reading her class schedule as she chewed.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us you were related to.Malf- I mean, Draco?" Ron asked between bites, watching her intently.  
  
"Well," she began, carefully pondering what to respond with, also wondering how many times she was going to have to answer this question. Choosing her words carefully she continued. "Frankly, you probably wouldn't've talked to me at all, and would have slammed the compartment door in my face."  
  
Hermione snorted, her face hidden by the sheet of parchment she still held in front of her. Ron paled a little; looking at her knowingly, while Harry simply ignored them all and continued eating. He knew it was true. Had they known she was a Malfoy, they would have avoided her at all costs. "You're right," he sighed. "Hate to admit it, but you're right."  
  
"I like being right sometimes," Laine muttered, tracing the wood grain of the bench with a fingertip. "Besides, from what I've gathered, Draco seems to take after my father in public."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow. "In public?"  
  
"Well, he isn't always a self-righteous bastard, you know."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure," Ron drawled, obviously disbelieving. Laine couldn't help but smile a little at the wry tone in his voice.  
  
"Well, he isn't. Maybe it's because I could easily kick his ass, but-"  
  
"Excuse me, Weasley, but I need to speak to my sister for a moment." Laine looked up, straight into a pair of icy blue eyes so much like her own, glaring accusingly at her.  
  
"Oh.Hi Ma- I mean, Draco," Ron stumbled over the words, the tips of his ears turning pink.  
  
"What do you need?" Laine asked frankly. She was on the verge of actually speaking to another human being, and he had to show up and ruin it.  
  
"Come with me, please." Draco grabbed her upper arm, and pulled her to her feet. Laine, unable to escape his surprisingly strong grip waved at Ron as her brother hauled her out of the hall.  
  
"Ow," she wrenched her arm out of his grasp, rubbing the spot he had held so tightly. She'd probably have a bruise there later. "You really didn't need Daddy to buy you that spot on the team, did you?"  
  
"No," he snapped. "What the hell were you doing in there?"  
  
"What, just now?" She asked, a little bewildered. "Um.talking?"  
  
"With WEASLEY."  
  
"Your point being.what, exactly?"  
  
"It's WEASLEY!"  
  
"You've lost me, Draco," Laine sighed. "Look, I'll let you ponder over your.inhibitions on your own. I have to go get my books for my first class."  
  
"What is it?" Draco called as Laine began scaling the stairs right next to them.  
  
"Potions, then Transfiguration."  
  
"Good luck," Draco muttered to himself, turning toward the dungeons. "I didn't think I'd ever meet someone with worse luck than Weasley. I guess I was wrong."  
  
~*~  
  
Her Potions lesson was the embodiment of hell. Plain and simple, hell. First, the Gryffindors had the lesson with the Slytherins, who were discussing whether or not someone had hexed the sorting hat. Then, there was roll call. Professor Snape paused before reading off her name, then searched the crowded room for her.  
  
"Hmm, Miss Malfoy," his voice was smooth.disconcertingly so. "A pity you're not in my house. All the same, I trust you will live up to your brother's standards."  
  
Laine sunk so low in her seat, she looked as though she were about to slither onto the floor. "Oh yes, touched my life is. Touched in the head."  
  
Transfiguration, if anything, was worse. The other Gryffindor students were irritatingly smug to the Slytherins, (who had followed them up from Potions), although everyone knew that McGonagall never favored her house above the others. Unlike Snape, McGonagall didn't stop at her name, simply waited for Laine to call 'present' before continuing on. Later, Laine had to admit, she was grateful for that.  
  
Being the first day of classes, McGonagall set them at a refreshed task- turning matchsticks into needles, then animals into water goblets, and after that, teapots into tortoises and back again. Laine was perfectly happy being the only person without a partner. She had always been good at Transfiguration, and she didn't want it to seem that she was bragging or anything, which is how she knew her new classmates would take it.  
  
It was bad enough when McGonagall came by to watch her work, and actually commented aloud. That little event earned her glares the rest of the class period. But, it did, Laine was happy to note, earn Gryffindor 15 points.  
  
After that, she had a full hour to herself. She walked slowly up to Gryffindor tower, chatting with a few of the portraits she passed. One, a particularly rambunctious knight declared himself 'my lady's vassal', and insisted on 'escorting' her the rest of the way to the tower.  
  
"Only a few more levels fair lady, and our quest shall be complete!" the small knight raced through one frame to the next. Most of their inhabitants huffing irritably as he ran by them. Laine, shaking her head, followed the overly zealous knight and curtsied to him when they reached the Fat Lady.  
  
"Thank you, good sir," she said gravely, trying not to laugh at her words. "Your courtesy is much appreciated."  
  
"Any day, my Lady, any day. If ever you have need of escort, ask for Sir Cadogan and you shall find me!" With that, he raced off the way they had come, earning shouts of protest from the other portraits.  
  
The Fat Lady shook her head sadly. "A bit off his rocker, that one."  
  
"I see what you mean. Heebie-Jeebie." The portrait hole opened, revealing the common room; which appeared to be deserted. Laine stepped inside the blissfully silent room, and sat at one of the study tables, pulling her transfiguration book out of her bag. She flipped through the pages until she found the chapter on transforming bottles of substances into living things.  
  
Pulling out a bottle of ink that was nearly empty- she had written Melanie, her best friend at the Institution, several long letters in the last few weeks- and her wand. Propping the book up on the bag, she began attempting to transfigure the bottle of navy blue ink into a blue jay.  
  
On her fifth try, she had managed to give the bottle feather-like etchings, and it seemed to have wings, eyes, and a beak embossed on it. Three tries later, a blue jay flew in circles over the table, shrieking.  
  
"Lovely bird," a voice whispered in her ear.  
  
Laine jumped, dropping her wand on the table with a clatter. She stood quickly and spun, ready to punch the person who had snuck up on her. Ron grinned, holding his hands up in the customary sign of surrender, much like Draco had at Madam Malkin's. "Ron, don't you ever do that again! I'll turn you into a bird next time- a big red.cardinal or something!"  
  
Ron smiled wryly, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I'd rather a phoenix if you don't mind."  
  
Laine shook her head. "I doubt your family would much like having a phoenix instead of you. A cardinal you could be transfigured back from, a phoenix you couldn't."  
  
"I couldn't?"  
  
"No. They're immortal, you're bound to that form for eternity. Nasty little side-effect."  
  
"You seem to know an awful lot about transfiguration," Ron told her, sitting down in the chair opposite her overturned one. "Especially for a fourth year."  
  
Laine shrugged innocently, setting her chair to rights and sitting down. "I like the subject. I've studied it quite a bit. There's only so much at ones' grade level that can be learned, you know."  
  
Ron shook his head, watching her call the blue-jay back to her and transfigure it back into her inkbottle. "You are not what I expected."  
  
"And what, pray tell, did you expect?" She asked quietly, polishing her wand on her robes.  
  
"Well." He searched for the words. "Someone more like Draco." Seeing her open her mouth to protest, he continued. "Or at least, the Draco all of us see."  
  
"That's better," she grinned. "I must say, you're not exactly the culmination of the horror story my father has always related about the Weasley clan, either."  
  
"Oh, please, do tell," he said so much like Melanie that Laine couldn't help but giggle.  
  
"Well, for one thing, you were described as Neanderthals who can't afford to feed themselves. But, judging from your height, I'd say you get fed quite regularly," She grinned a little. "And you seem perfectly sociable, but I could be wrong."  
  
"Speaking of feeding," Ron checked his watch. "Time for lunch. Grab your stuff for afternoon classes and come down. You can sit with Harry, Hermione, and I. I'll wait. Go.." He made shooing motions at her.  
  
Dashing up the staircase and into her room, Laine set her two books on her bed, then grabbed the books for Herbology and Charms off the bedside table. Shoving them in her bag, she ran back down the stairs, grinned at Ron, and the two of them set off for the Great hall. It was nice to have someone to talk to, Laine decided as they walked, Ron chattering about Quidditch. Even if she couldn't trust him, wouldn't let herself trust him, finding someone who accepted her on her terms was good enough for one morning.  
  
~*~  
  
Laine saw Harry choke a little out of the corner of her eye, when she sat down next to Ron. Hermione looked up, her face hardening, then back down to her food. Their section of the table was almost silent as people chewed.  
  
A group of Slytherin girls -lead by Pansy Parkinson- walked by the table at that moment. "Ugh, A Malfoy, associating with Potter, Weasley, and the queen of all Mudbloods," she snarled in her irritatingly whiny voice. "You should be ashamed, Laine."  
  
Laine was on her feet in an instant, standing in front of Pansy, her hands on her hips. "The only thing I'm ashamed of is to be associated even remotely with someone like you." She noted, smiling with grim humor, that Pansy stood a full three inches shorter than her. "Now get out of here. You don't belong this close to anything vaguely resembling humanity, anyway."  
  
Her pug nose in the air, Pansy stalked away, her group of followers twittering to eachother. As Laine sat back down, she realized she was the recipient of three stunned gazes. Looking up, her fork halfway to her mouth, she asked mildly. "What?"  
  
"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked instantly, in her usual blunt manner.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"That," Hermione repeated. "With Pansy.I'm used to the Mudblood taunts by now."  
  
Laine shrugged. "Just because you're used to it," she took a sip from her goblet, "Doesn't make it right. You don't have to put up with them, you know."  
  
"Like you care," Harry muttered.  
  
Laine was surprised. "Of course I care. People shouldn't be judged by their families. They should be judged as themselves, as people."  
  
Harry snorted. "Yeah. Sure."  
  
Then she did what no one could have expected. She flipped him off. "Bite me, Potter. You may be famous, but that doesn't make you all knowing. You don't know everything, I'm afraid Hermione far surpasses you there, and you sure as hell don't know shit about me. Hell, I'm surprised you remember my name!"  
  
"It's not like I could forget it," Harry said dully.  
  
"That was my point, you idiot," Laine turned to Ron, smiling sweetly. "Thanks for your company, Ron, but obviously this isn't going to work. I had better go, I have to find my next class." Without another word, she stood, grabbing her bag, and slipped out the hall.  
  
"Why am I not surprised? She is a Malfoy after all." Harry grumbled.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Harry. You deserved everything you got." Ron said sharply, turning back to his lunch.  
  
"He's right, you know," Hermione said quietly. "I don't like her, either, but you've been.well, you've not been yourself of late."  
  
"Of late? We've only been here TWO DAYS!"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "With you, it's obvious when you're off-color. You tend to wear your emotions on your sleeve."  
  
"Wonderful. I'll store that bit of information away," Harry snapped. "I can't believe you two are sticking up for a Malfoy." He was met with two sighs of exasperation. "I don't care if she seems nice enough, she's still one of them, and she'll prove it sooner or later."  
  
"Whatever, Harry," Ron was tired of listening to him complain. If Harry kept this up, he'd be forced to do something drastic.get Pig to bite him.maybe 'borrow' his Firebolt.well, maybe not. That was a little too drastic.  
  
~*~  
  
Laine was shaking from suppressed anger. First Pansy, then Harry.Losing her temper, she slammed a fist into the stone wall next to a staircase, screaming quietly.  
  
"Something vexes thee?" A patronizing voice floated over her shoulder.  
  
"I don't need this right now, go away, Draco."  
  
"Oh, but as your older brother, I'm obligated to intrude, make your life as hard as possible, etc. It's in the contract. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."  
  
"Wonderful," She said loudly, spinning around. "Just what I need right now, a pep talk from Potter's arch enemy."  
  
"Oh, my dear sister, you flatter me," Draco pretended to fan himself. "As a matter of fact, that's not what I came here to talk to you about. I was going to suggest-"  
  
"I flipped him off, if helps your vendetta any."  
  
Draco looked thoughtful. "You flipped the Famous Harry Potter off?"  
  
"Mmhmm.chewed him out, too.."  
  
Shaking his head, Draco couldn't help but laugh. "As much as I would have loved to be there when you did that, I thought you were determined to prove that you weren't from the same mold as the rest of the family?"  
  
"I am. But he deserved it," She folded her arms stubbornly across her chest.  
  
"Oh, I'm quite sure he did. Now, as I was saying before," he looked at her sternly for a moment. "Come up to the library after your afternoon classes, and I'll help you with your charms work. I know you're not.particularly adept in that area."  
  
"Fine. Can I go now?"  
  
"If you must-" Draco waved her away, grinning impishly. Laine had stood up to Potter, hmm? This was almost too good to be true.  
  
~*~  
  
"Here comes Malfoy," Harry muttered, seeing the blonde boy striding across the hall towards them.  
  
"His name is Draco, there's another Malfoy around here now," Ron insisted.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Stubborn," Ron accused.  
  
"Quite."  
  
"Potter," Draco was grinning maliciously. "Did my little sister really just give you the finger?"  
  
"Obviously she's acquired your talent for subtlety, Malfoy," Harry said dryly. "Yes, she did."  
  
"Wonderful!" Malfoy crowed.  
  
"How is that wonderful, Malfoy?" Harry demanded.  
  
"Well," Draco began to retreat. "Yesterday, she thought she might actually try being your friend. Good to see she's abandoned that pipe dream. Have a nice day, Potter."  
  
Harry turned to Ron, eyes wide. "I hate it when people say that."  
  
"What, that they want to be your friend? Or your name?"  
  
"Neither.thought the name thing is rather irritating.Have a nice day. They never mean it."  
  
Ron looked at him, his features betraying disbelief. "That's all you can say?"  
  
"Um. yes?"  
  
Hermione and Ron signed in unison, marching out the dining hall. Harry followed, running to catch up.  
  
"What? What did I say? What?!"  
  
~*~  
  
Laine sat at a table in an abandoned corner of the library, her head resting on her arms. Herbology had gone well. It was a subject she was relatively good at, but charms.she couldn't help but shudder. It had been terrible. She remember the charms the Americans had taught her, but apparently she was behind. Very behind.  
  
That was how Draco found her, using her school bag as a pillow, trying to stop that day's Charms class from running through her mind repeatedly.  
  
"Can you call that pillow to you?" Flitwick had asked her.  
  
She smiled sheepishly. "Well, no.but I could make it blow up." At that moment, a pillow that had been whizzing by them did just that, exploding in midair and powdering the room with slightly charred goose down.  
  
"FINNIGAN!" Flitwick shouted. "You're supposed to be practicing your levitation, not summoning!"  
  
"I though Seamus was a year above us," Laine asked Ginny.  
  
"Oh, he is," the girl grinned. "But the professors all agreed that he needed a little more help on charms, so he has an extra hour up here, it just so happens that this is that extra hour."  
  
"I see." Laine smiled a little. "I think we'd probably get along. Both of us seem adept at blowing things up."  
  
Ginny had grinned, then gone back to summoning various items to her from around the room. She was quite good at it. Laine sighed, a little envious, and attempted to call the pillow to her. It didn't move. Again and again, she tried, each time with the same result. Near the end of the class, she had gotten frustrated and tried it one last time. The pillow had moved two inches, then exploded.  
  
"Well," Flitwick commented dryly. "You and Finnigan should form a club. You could decorate the entire castle with feathers before the week is out."  
  
That was pretty much how her day had been. She'd get a little ahead, then everything would go up in smoke. Sometimes literally. So she had escaped to the library as soon as she could. Knowing that Draco would find her when he arrived. And if he didn't, well, she had gotten a good nap out of the deal.  
  
"Evening, Laine," Draco sat down across from her. "How was Charms?"  
  
She grunted.  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"You have no idea," she moaned, her voice muffled by her arms.  
  
"Did you know the charms they were doing?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Did you learn them?"  
  
"In theory."  
  
"What were you supposed to be doing?"  
  
"Summoning."  
  
"Uh-huh, and what did you do?"  
  
"I blew it up."  
  
"Hmm...Have you met Finnigan yet?" She looked up at him just enough that Draco could see her eyes, glaring. "Oohkay then. So, what's the assignment?"  
  
"Summoning."  
  
"Can you do it?"  
  
"No."  
  
Draco was exasperated. "Can you do anything other than blow things up?"  
  
Her hand snaked up, holding the wand, pointing at Draco. "Orchideous." She muttered, and a bouquet of orchids popped out of the end of her wand.  
  
"Oh, but I prefer roses."  
  
"Would you like to be a brunette?" She demanded.  
  
"Touchy."  
  
"Forget it. I'm going to bed."  
  
"Now wait a minute," He grabbed a fistful of her robes as she started to get up. "You have to work on this a little bit."  
  
"Fine." Laine sat back down in the chair. "Accio Bo-"  
  
"Do NOT say book in here," Draco clapped a hand over her mouth. "Do you want to be buried?"  
  
"Oh.right." Laine blushed sheepishly. "Accio.um.accio.What am I supposed to be calling?"  
  
"Let's start small," Draco muttered. "Here," he pulled a Knut out of his pocket. "Try this."  
  
~*~  
  
Two hours later, Laine lay on her back in her bed.her nice, soft, comfortable bed. Draco had drilled her until she was able to call a specific book from the other end of the library. Madam Pince had not been pleased, but she had still accomplished it. And save a few piles of melted bronze, she hadn't melted, exploded, or otherwise destroyed the objects she was calling. She was also incredibly tired, but unable to sleep.  
  
In her mind's eye, she saw herself standing in the middle of a large crowd of Hogwarts students, including her brother, Harry, and Ron. They kept taunting her, saying things like 'just like a Malfoy', and 'keep up the family reputation'. And she couldn't move, she turned from side to side, trying to move, but it was as though she stood in an invisible cage.one she could not escape. As she drifted off, the image in her mind began to scream and scream; but no one could hear her, or no one cared. She was all alone, invisible, but still judged by every other person she came in contact with.  
  
The waking dream followed her into sleep. After what felt like long minutes but was really hours, a cold black shadow, echoing her father's sneering voice began to fill her glass cage, tendrils swirling around her. It crept up from her ankles to her waist, binding her legs together and her arms to her body. It continued, and though she screamed and pleaded for help, no one noticed. Black shadows wrapping around her, creeping closer and closer to her neck, Laine began to cry silently.  
  
"Don't be afraid," the shadow whispered in her ear. "You were always a disgrace. No one will miss you.it won't hurt a bit. Don't be afraid." it echoed, looping around her neck and tightening, cutting off her air.  
  
Laine awoke clawing at her throat, her eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream. Looking around her, tearing the curtains aside, she managed a sigh of relief. She was still in Gryffindor tower. It was a few hours before dawn.  
  
Trembling, she slid out of bed, and sat on the deep windowsill, staring out at the moon's reflection on the lake. It was too real to be a dream.too real.  
  
~*~  
  
End Part 2. 


	3. Memory Laine

Title: Memory Laine

Authors: Destria and Darkrose (the_keyboard_gang@yahoo.com)

Series:  Other Side of the Mirror (Part 3)

Note: We forgot to mention this before; the story takes place during Harry and co.'s 5th year. And, as far as we're concerned, OotP never happened. So, if you haven't read it, you're in no danger of catching spoilers…okay, maybe one or two.

~*~

_  "No Daddy," five year-old Laine cried defiantly, cowering in a corner of the large dining room. "I won't do it."_

_  "Excuse me?" Lucius Malfoy's voice was soft and deadly. _

_  "I won't do it!"_

_  "You won't?" It was obviously rhetorical. "That's odd, for I believe you will."_

_  Narcissa, standing in the doorway looked from her husband to her daughter, her face a mask of malice. She made no move to stop what she knew he was about to do, no move to do anything other than watch and laugh._

_  "Imperio," Lucius whispered, pointing his wand at his daughter.  "Now, you're going to do it, aren't you?"_

_  "Yes, Father," Laine stood, her face still as stone and walked to the kitchen. There she pulled a knife out of the drawer and went to find the kitten she had saved from a gutter two days before.  It mewed pathetically at her as she put the knife to its neck, tears leaking from her eyes and her mind screaming at her._

 "LAINE!" Someone shouted, snapping her back to reality.

  "Yes?" She shook her head, waiting for her eyes to readjust to the light inside the great hall. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were all shooting her weird looks. "Is something wrong?"

  "Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

  "Yes," Laine lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  Harry looked vaguely amused. "Funny, here I thought I was the only one who went into catatonic trances like that. Finally, someone to take the spotlight away."

 Ron shot him a poisonous look, then turned back to Laine. "Usually when someone has tears running down their face, they're upset."

  Laine raised a hand to a cheek and wiped at her face, then looked. Something glinted silver in the early light reflected from the windows and the ceiling.  "I was crying…"

  "Yeah, amazing, isn't it?" Harry muttered sarcastically. "That's what most people call it, anyway."

  Hermione smacked him over the head with a book. "ENOUGH, Harry."

  Ron grinned at him and Harry rubbed the back of his head. "Hurts, doesn't it? Now you know what I have to deal with."

  Harry muttered something no one else could hear…which was probably a good thing, considering the fact that Hermione had a positively lethal look in her eyes.

  Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Care to repeat that?"

  "No."

  "Then shut up."

  Harry, for once, didn't respond. Laine was impressed. "Wow. He actually does have a brain." Ron snickered as Harry opened his mouth to retort, and then closed it with a snap as Hermione raised her book menacingly.

  "I'm fine, really," Laine told them, tearing her bagel into pieces. They were all staring at her. "What?"

  Ron laid one of his hands over hers. "It's dead already, Laine. You don't have to kill it again."

  "Huh?" She didn't get it. Ron nodded toward the mutilated bagel. "Oh…" His hand was still over hers. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Although they didn't see it, from across the room, Draco's expression mirrored his little sister's. Ron ears turned pink and he hurriedly moved his hand, clearing his throat as Hermione quickly hid her grin behind the pages of her book.

  Harry, although he was frowning, looked rather amused, if only at Ron's pink ears. "C'mon, Ron, we've got divination first. Long walk."

  "Uh…right…" Ron shot him a grateful look. "I'll see you later, Laine. Hermione." He all but ran from the room.

  Hermione giggled at his retreating back, (ears still flaming) then sighed. "It's sad, really."

  "What is?"

  "Ron."

  "Excuse me?" Laine didn't get it.

  "Well, I have Viktor, Harry thinks he'd like to have Cho-" Hermione shook her head at Laine's questioning look. "You don't want to know. Basically, Ron's the only one left…well, an Neville, but he's got his eye on Ginny…best not to tell Ron, though, he'd try to kill Neville."

  Laine's eyes widened a little, but Hermione looked perfectly serious. "Just what are you getting at?" Laine asked slowly.

  Hermione snickered. "Nothing, nothing at all. Just letting you know the facts."

  "Right…" This girl had something not quite right going on today. "I think I'll just…go. Get my stuff for Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies…"

  Hermione, once again absorbed in her book, waved goodbye as Laine walked as casually as she possibly could from the room.

  "Laine!"

  She sighed as she turned around. "Draco, dearie, we really must stop meeting like this. People will begin to talk."

  "Yeah, well, you should really stop holding Weasley's hand at breakfast, PEOPLE TALK!" She had never seen her brother so upset…at least not at her.

  "What?"

  "You. Weasley. Holding hands! DO YOU GET IT NOW?!" People walking by were shooting them both weird looks.

  "Do you mind not humiliating me in the main hall?"

  "LAINE!"

  "What?"

  "EXPLAIN THIS!"

  Her face set, she marched down the staircase, grabbing Draco's collar, and continuing to march into the nearest corridor. Thankfully, it was empty. She let go of him and glared, crossing her arms. "Try this again, without yelling at me."

  "I saw it! At the table just now, you and Weasley holding hands!"

  Laine sighed. "That's not what it was, Draco."

  "That's certainly what it LOOKED LIKE." He was losing the battle to keep his voice at a reasonable level. 

  "If you _must _ know, he was trying to keep me from mutilating my food any more than I already had."

  Draco opened his mouth, fully ready to continue his tirade, then stopped. "What?"

  "You heard me," she said quietly. 

  "You never mutilate your food…unless you're worried or scared or…angry…" he looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "What did Potter do to you? I swear, if he laid a FINGER on you, I'll kill him."

  "Oh, Draco, I didn't know you cared. Besides, Harry didn't do anything."

  "Harry? You're on a first-name basis with him, now?"

  "AAH!" She yelled. "I had a Daymare, that's all, all right?"

  "About what?" Draco sounded disappointed he couldn't beat on Potter, but curious, too.

  "Must you know everything?"

  Draco grinned at her. "Yes."

  She shook her head. "Nevermind. Come on, we're going to be late for our classes." She dashed out of the corridor before he could respond, tearing up the staircases towards the common room.

  "Well," Draco muttered, slightly put out that she had left him so suddenly. "Maybe YOU weren't holding HIS hand, but as for the other way around…" he chuckled quietly. "That I'm not so sure about. Weasley and I must have a little…chat. Sometime soon, I should think…yes, after dinner sounds good to me…"

~*~

   Harry had been staring at Ron for the last half an hour, completely ignoring Professor Trelawny, who was making her usual predictions of death befalling him at an early age. It was beginning to get on Ron's nerves. Not so much that he was staring, but the irritatingly smug smile he had been wearing since breakfast. 

  "What?" He hissed at Harry while Professor Trelawny complimented Lavender and  Parvati on their 'incredibly accurate' horoscopes.

  Harry's grin widened. "Oh, nothing…"

  "Like hell it's nothing," Ron shot back. "Now, WHAT?"

  "Nothing-" Harry tried again. Ron shot him a death glare. "Well, I was just thinking about breakfast…"

  "I thought I was the one who constantly thought about food, not you."

 "Ron," Harry looked exasperated. "Please."

  Ron's ears turned slightly pink. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

 "Uh-huh," Harry patted his shoulder. "Whatever you say, Ron. Whatever you say."

~*~

  Laine was the first one to the Gryffindor table for lunch, not that she cared…much. She was used to Hermione being there first, her nose already in the latest book she was tackling, followed by Harry and Ron, deep in discussion about some Quidditch move, team, match, etc. that no one else had even heard of…she was usually last…given they had only been there three days, and in that time had eight meals together. Still, a pattern had emerged.

  She sat down, helping herself to a large bowl of soup and a cheese sandwich. It was so like being back at the Institution, it was scary. Moments later, Hermione sat down across from her, flashing a smile as she grabbed her own food.

  "Have a good morning, Laine?"

  Laine looked up, startled. Hermione hardly talked at lunch, if at all. And yet, here she was, watching Laine carefully as she initiated conversation.

  "Yeah," Laine said quietly. "It was...fine…what about you?"

  "Oh, it was wonderful. Arithmancy is such a good class."

  "Really? I have it this afternoon."

  "You'll love it. Hi guys," Hermione caroled as Ron and Harry sat down next to Laine.

  Ron just looked at her dully. "Why are you so happy?"

  "Yeah," Harry agreed. "It's different."

  "What, so I'm not allowed to be happy, anymore?" Hermione demanded, looking offended.

  "We didn't say that!" 

  "You implied it!" Hermione whipped out her book and was lost to the world.

  Laine looked at them, amused. "Great job."

  The boys sulked as they inhaled their food, but Laine could swear she saw Hermione hiding a smile. She laughed quietly, finishing her soup. Pulling out her schedule, she examined what the rest of the week looked like for her.

Monday: 9- Potions  
         1030- Transfiguration

         1230- Charms

              2- Herbology

Tuesday: 9- Care of Magical Creatures

          1030- Muggle Studies

          1230- Arithmancy

               2- History of Magic

Wednesday:  9- Astronomy (practical lessons as announced)

                1030- Astronomy

                1230- Defense Against the Dark Arts

                      2- Defense Against the Dark Arts

Thursday: 9- Care of Magical Creatures

            1030- Muggle Studies

            1230- Arithmancy

                 2- History of Magic

Friday: 9- Potions

      1030- Transfiguration

      1230- Charms

            2- Herbology

  "Yeesh," a voice over her shoulder said.  She looked. It was her brother, of course.

  "You have a really bad habit of doing that," she muttered, turning back to her food.

  "Could you have taken any more classes?"

  "Yes, actually, I could have." She, and Draco, it seemed, were ignoring the glares the other Gryffindors were shooting at him. "But I figured I would save that for next year. O.W.L.s, you know."

  Draco shook his head. "You're crazy."

  "It runs in the family."

  "Hey!"

  "Look, did you need something specific?" She asked him, pleading with him mentally to just go away.

  "No…" He said quietly, heading over to the Slytherin table. Every Gryffindor watched him go, following his movement with their eyes, then turned back to their lunches. Laine just shook her head. 

 After a moment, conversations broke out again, filling the hall with its' normal buzzing sound. She breathed a sigh of relief and stood.

  "Where're you going?" Harry asked as Laine made to leave.

  "Class, I'll see you guys in the common room, later."

  "All right," Ron called back, watching her leave.

  "But we have another twenty minutes…" Harry said to himself more than anyone.

~*~

  Laine sat down in a chair towards the front of the Arithmancy classroom and rested her head in her hands. Draco was up to something, and she didn't like it. As was Hermione…and Harry, for that matter…it was a conspiracy, part of her mind decided. But why would the three of them work together? They didn't even LIKE each other…

  _Pain ripped through her body, her skin felt like it was on fire. She couldn't help it, she had to scream…_

"Oh, Miss Malfoy, You're here early."

  Laine looked up, smiling at the wizard who must've been her professor. "Yes, sir. Call me Laine."

"All right then."

~*~

  "There's something not right about that girl, I'm telling you!" Seamus insisted to Ron and Harry that afternoon before dinner. "She's…well, she's a Malfoy for one thing, for another, she's…well, she's just crazy."

  "You're only saying that because she's better at Charms'n you are," Ron muttered, rifling through his schoolbag.

  Seamus flushed a little. "That's not the point, Ron, everyone's better at Charms than me, even Neville!"

  "Gee, thanks," Neville inserted from the general direction of his bed, where he was engrossed in an obscure Herbology text.

  "I mean it, watch her- something isn't right there."

  "Whatever you say, Seamus," Harry groaned, tired of the argument.

  "She cries in her sleep!" Seamus tried.

  "How do you know that?" Ron asked sharply.

  "Ginny told me. She can hear her at night, whimpering, sobbing. Now answer me this, is that normal?"

  "I hardly think we're entitled to define normality, Seamus," Dean grinned. "After all, we're here to learn magic."

  Seamus groaned. "You know perfectly well what I meant."

  "I did, and I still say you have your panties in a twist over nothing." Ron snapped, decidedly, ending Seamus' tirade- he was too busy trying to come up with a suitable comeback. "I'm going down to dinner." With that, he left the room.

  Seamus crossed his arms and sat down hard on his bed. "I still say she's out of her tree."

~*~

  "Weasley!" Draco called down the hallway. "Hey, WEASLEY!" Still no response. "RON!"

  The tall redhead stopped in his tracks and turned around. "You talking to me, Draco?"

  "Is there anyone else standing here named Ron? Or Weasley for that matter?"

  "Well…" Ron sighed. "No. What do you want?"

  Draco smiled beatifically. "Oh nothing. I just wanted us to have a little chat, you and I."

  Ron was wary. "About…?"

  "Just people…you…me…my sister…" He leaned against the wall. This early, they were the only ones in the corridor, so there would be no harm to either one of their reputations.

  Ron sighed. "Get to the point."

  "Stay away from her," Draco said bluntly, managing to keep his pleasant tone of voice, if only barely.

  "She's my friend," Ron protested.

  "So she told me," Draco winced. "All the same, I've got my eye on you, Ron."

  Ron blinked. This was perhaps the first time in his life Draco had used his name conversationally. It was a very odd experience. "Is that supposed to be a threat, or a warning?"

  "You decide," Draco pushed himself away from the wall. "Although if it were me, I'd say neither, and consider it to be more like a promise."

  "I see…"

  Draco locked gazes with the other boy. "I mean it, one finger on her and you'll wish you had never seen nor heard of her. Have I made my point clear?"

  "Abundantly," Ron replied grimly. "But Draco, answer me this."  Draco raised an eyebrow expectantly. "How will you keep her away from me?" He smiled sweetly. "Have a nice evening, Draco."

~*~


	4. Blue Eyes Blue

Title: Blue Eyes Blue

Authors: Destria and Darkrose (the_keyboard_gang@yahoo.com)

Series:  Other Side of the Mirror (Part 4)

Note: The story takes place during Harry and co.'s 5th year. And, as far as we're concerned, OotP never happened. So, if you haven't read it, you're in no danger of catching spoilers…okay, maybe one or two. Lyrics are from Eric Clapton's "Blue eyes Blue". Great song. Listen to it sometime.

~*~

  "How dare he!" Draco fumed as he sat down at the Slytherin table. "That little…he…why I…he thinks that he can….UGH!" He slammed his goblet down, still muttering inaudibly.

  "Um…Draco? Something you want to tell us?" Crabbe asked as he traded worried looks with Goyle. "Something going on?"

  "No," Draco snapped. "Nothing at all. It's just-" he looked up and caught a glimpse of Ron's smug smile as Laine and Harry sat down next to him. "…a pest problem. That's all."

  "You should tell Filch," Goyle said, chewing on a piece of meat. "He could take care of it. Exterminate, and everything."

  "No, that's-" He thought for a moment. "Not a bad idea at all. Thanks Goyle, I just might do that."

  Goyle nodded, immensely pleased with himself. Draco, ignoring his dinner, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began drafting a letter.

~*~

  "I don't like that smile," Harry murmured.

  "What smile?" Laine asked innocently.

  "The one you're brother is wearing."

  "Oh? Which one would that be?"

  "Huh?" Harry looked at her confusedly. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, is it the smug 'I-know-everything' smile, the dark 'I'm-up-to-something' smile, the mysterious 'because-I-can' smile, which is it? There are dozens of others, so you'll have you be a bit more specific, because…well, Draco smiles a lot." She said this all in one breath, then took a sip of water. She was oddly happy.

  "Well…" Harry blinked. "I guess I'd have to say it's the 'I'm-up-to-something' smile."

  "Hmm….Looks evil, does he?"

  "Well…kind of. That and really pleased with himself. Why?"

  "Oooh…" She shook her head and glanced at Draco. "Yep," she said. "He's going to do something really evil."

  "Oh, right then, that's oka-" Ron stopped, the color draining from his face. "Excuse me? Really Evil? As in more evil than usual?"

  "Well, yes…"Laine cocked her head to one side. "Last time he wore that look, he had dyed all of mother's hair brilliant pink with orange and green polka-dots."

  The three gave her incredulous looks.

  Laine only shrugged. "She's a very sound sleeper, you see, and father was away on business, so it was the ideal…"she trailed off. "And you really didn't need to know that."

  "Great," Ron squeaked, attempting a smile, images of the things Malfoy could- and inevitably would- do to him running through his head. He was beginning to regret being so cool in his earlier conversation with Malfoy…Except the look on Draco's face after he said it, which was absolutely priceless.

  "Ron? What did you do?" Hermione asked.

  "Nothing…"

  Laine turned, eyebrow raised, looking like a female version of her brother. Ron had to try not to laugh. "What did you say to my brother?"

  "Nothing…" he tried again, trying to look away from that icy stare but found that he couldn't. "God, what are you, part veela?"

  Ron slapped a hand over his mouth as Harry and Hermione died laughing. Laine, however, just blinked. "Well…I think like 45 generations ago, or something…Why?"

  He shook his head, feeling as though his ears were going to burst into flame. "Nevermind. It's nothing, really…"

  "Insulting my family again, Weasley?" A cold voice said. Hermione choked, tears of mirth streaming down her face. Harry just waved.

  "No, why ever would I do that, Draco?" Ron said, just as coldly.

  "I could swear you just said my sister was part veela. Or was that a misguided form of a compliment?" He raised the other eyebrow. "Choose your words wisely, Ron," he murmured just loud enough for the red boy to hear.

  "It's fine, Draco, you don't always have to try to protect me, you know," Laine insisted.

 "Well, someone has to!" Harry and Ron winced.

  "And what," she rose, crossing her arms. "Is that supposed to mean, brother dearest?" Her tone was so like their father's that Draco had to wince as well.

  "Exactly what it sounded like," he managed weakly, standing up straight and looking her in the eye. "I just wanted to say goodnight, anyway. To all of you." He strode off, leaving Ron, Harry, and Hermione in shock and Laine fuming, wondering what it was he was _really_ up to.

  Someone tugged on her sleeve. She looked down sharply at Harry. "Sit down," he hissed. "People are staring." They were indeed. She sat, still wondering at her brother.

  "People always stare at me," she retorted. "I'm used to it by now. You'd think you would be too, since-" She stopped as Harry's gaze went to his plate. "Sorry, Harry," she said in an undertone.

  "It's all right," he muttered back.

  "'Just because you're used to it,'" Hermione quoted. "'Doesn't make it right.'"

  Laine made a face. "Nothing like having your own words used against you."

  Ron sighed. "Tell me about it. She does it constantly."

  "Yeah," Harry agreed. "Why is that?"

  Hermione smiled sweetly, lifting a spoonful of vanilla ice cream to her lips. "Only because I can. And, you all tend to need it from time to time."

  "You know, one of these days we're going to get you on that."

  Hermione chuckled and grinned. "I look forward to it. But until then, you just go ahead and keep thinking that."

~*~

  None of the other fourth year girls seemed to like Laine much, with the exception of Ginny. It didn't really bother her. What bothered her was that now that she was generally seen with the 'dream team' as so many called them, all the girls wanted to be her friend. She ignored them and their gossip, pointedly working on her Arithmancy assignment. Three more problems and she would be done.

  "How can you not love those eyes?" One of the girls, whom Laine personally thought of as Mary Jane, asked another (Barbie).

  "Well, I don't think he's that cute, if you really want to know," Barbie told Mary Jane.

  "You WHAT?" Mary Jane and their friend Eyeliner exclaimed. 

  "He's _gorgeous_," Barbie sighed. The other two started laughing.

  Laine shook her head. A conversation like this took place every night about this time, always about one of three people. Reminiscing about Oliver Wood, Dean Thomas, or, as it was tonight, about Harry. Sad, really. But she had seen pictures of Oliver Wood, and had to agree, he was quite attractive…never told her brother that, though. She didn't have a death wish, no matter how often she joked about it.

  "-And that hair!" Eyeliner was exclaiming.

  Laine sighed, disgusted. The three of them turned on her. One thought ran through Laine's mind: 'uh-oh'.

  "And I suppose you haven't the slightest attraction to Harry Potter," Mary Jane demanded.

  "Well, I suppose he's kind of cute…" Laine admitted as a vision of his laughing face at dinner invaded her mind. "But wouldn't you like to get to know him?"

  The three girls scoffed. "Why for?" Eyeliner demanded. "He's the famous Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake!"

  "So?" Laine retorted. "That doesn't say a thing about his personality. Maybe he's really shallow, thinks only about himself. Doesn't that matter to you?"

  "No," the trio answered in unison.

  "Then, for Merlin's sake, I bet the old wizard's glad he's dead."

  "And what is _that_ supposed to mean, Malfoy?" Barbie snapped, drawing up to her full height- 5'4"- and glaring menacingly.

  "What're you going to do? Claw my eyes out?" Laine demanded, trying not to laugh.

  "Don't tempt me."

  "I'm so scared."

  "You should be," Barbie said, backing down. "Watch your back, Malfoy. You may not like what happens to you if you don't watch your mouth in the future."

  "Ooh, I'm trembling. The thought of watching my back from people who barely reach my shoulders petrifies me." She gave a dramatic shiver and stood up in one fluid moment. "Excuse me, the musings of Barbies anonymous begins to bore me."

  As the door shut behind her, she heard one of the girls ask the others, "What's a Barbie?"

~*~

  "Ugh," Laine muttered as she sat down at a table next to Hermione. 

  "What?" Hermione's concentration focused on Laine as she closed her own Arithmancy book.

  "My roommates."

  "What about them?"

  "They're the unofficial Hogwarts chapter of the Harry Potter Fan Club."

  "Oh, really?" Harry looked up from his Divination homework. "What are their names?"

  "Mary Jane, Eyeliner, and Barbie." Hermione snorted and Harry's eyes twinkled. Laine blushed a little. "I don't know their real names."

  "Well," Hermione opened her Muggle Studies book, setting the Arithmancy book on top of a stack of various other volumes. "You're obviously not missing much."

  "Oh, I don't know. Some of those Oliver Wood photographs are quite nice. Especially the one where he's trying to drown himself in the showers."

  Harry choked on a mouthful of tea. "They have pictures of that?" He squeaked.

  "Harry, honey, there are pictures I've seen that would make you blush." He started to take another sip of tea. "Plenty of which are of you." He spat the mouthful out, covering Ron, who had just arrived, in lukewarm Earl Grey.

  "Thanks, Harry, I needed a shower, anyway," he said sarcastically.

  "They have PICTURES!" Harry gasped, sputtering.

  "Of…?"

  "ME!"

  Ron shrugged. "I have pictures of you." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Not _those_ kind of pictures!" Then he understood. "Oh…Wait a second, has Ginny been looking at these??"

  Laine rolled her eyes and sighed. "No."

  Harry chose that moment to streak off in the direction of the girl's dormitories, Hermione, laughing, followed him, leaving Laine alone with Ron for a moment.

  "So…" He said anxiously.

  "Tell me if this sounds totally ditzy, or if it's really just none of my business, but what kind of girls does Harry like?"

  Ron looked at her, his eyes a mixture of emotions. "I couldn't really tell you."

  "You're his best friend."

  "Yeah," Ron shrugged. "He doesn't talk about girls much."

  "Oh…"

  "So about those pictures," Ron deftly changed the subject. "Really, has Ginny been looking at them?"

  "No," replied Laine, as Harry and Hermione returned, Harry murmuring about cursed staircases and Hermione looking a little too calm. " Besides, even if she had, I'd never tell."

  Ron's eyes widened. "GINNY!" He yelled, stalking off, still dripping, to find his sister.

  Laine shook her head. "Brothers."

  "I can't say I can relate," Hermione murmured, taking notes as she read.

  "Be grateful for that fact," Laine told her earnestly. "Very grateful. Speaking of brothers…Sheibe!" She slammed a fist on the table and dashed for the portrait hole. "I'll be back later."

~*~

  Laine dashed down the halls as fast as she could, dodging people and ghosts alike, earning disgruntled cries from many of them. Finally she reached the library, slowing to a fast walk. Madam Pince glared and pointed with her wand at the sign that ordered students to 'walk at a sedate pace'. Laine smiled sheepishly and as soon as the librarian's back was turned, dashed to the corner where she was supposed to meet her brother…an hour ago.

  Draco was lounging in a chair, idly twirling his wand. He looked calmly up at her when she showed up red in the face and out of breath. "You," he murmured. "are very late."

  "I know, and I'm sorry, really I am," Laine apologized between gasps. "I was doing my Arithmancy stuff and lost track of time…"

  "A likely story," Draco drawled, grinning in his sinister way. "I bet you were staring into those deep blue eyes of Potter's, weren't you?"

  "They're not blue," she retorted without really thinking about what she was saying. She sat down in the chair across from Draco's. "They're very, very green."

  Draco arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

  Laine flushed. "Or so…so I've heard," she responded weakly.

  "I'm sure. Anyway," he seemed ready to forget it…for now, at least. Laine was thankful he wasn't going to tease her, but she had to wonder what he was really up to. "About this charm, which one is it?"

  She grinned sheepishly. "Flitwick wants me to review levitation…again."

  Draco groaned. "Fine, but you had better get it quick, this is first year stuff!"

  "Believe me," she murmured, thinking back to the lecture she had gotten from Flitwick (which included the words "almost worse than Finnigan is!"). "I know."

  "All right," Draco sighed. "Let's start at the beginning…"

~*~

  Exhausted, Laine trudged back up to the tower. After levitation, Draco had made her review the summoning charm… review, and review…and review some more. Then he had attempted a few others, whose names she couldn't remember, all she could remember was that she had them down pat. Thank god. Draco truly was a slave master. Must've inherited that trait from Lucius.

  She stumbled through the portrait hole, past a few people who're still studying, and up to her room, not caring to look and see if Barbie and her minions were asleep. Instead, she slipped into a nightgown, and slid into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  Laine was up early the next morning, slipping down to the common room silently with an ease of practiced grace. Once there, she curled up in a particularly old armchair and opened a book. Given, it was a schoolbook, but she thought it was fascinating. Best not let anyone other than Hermione see her reading it, though, or else they might start to think she was smart or something. She grinned a little at the last mental comment. It wasn't as though any self-respecting Gryffindor would ever come to a Malfoy for help, anyway. Well… anyone except maybe Ginny, Harry, or Ron- Hermione didn't need anyone's help.

  Wishing absently that she had a cup of coffee, she began reading, becoming so engrossed in the material that she didn't notice anyone else in the common room…and apparently, they didn't notice her, either.

  A sudden burst of song broke her concentration, making her nearly drop her book. "_'Cause you were only playing, only playing with my heart. I was never waiting, I was never waiting for the tears to start._"

  "_It was you, who put the clouds around me, it was you, who made the tears fall down…_" The very nice tenor continued singing as they came down the boys' staircase. "_It was you, who broke my heart in pieces_," They stopped at one of the tables, humming for a moment. Laine heard the sound of parchment being shoved into a bag.

  The person moved over toward the portrait hole, singing once again. "_It was you, it was you,_" As they left, the voice grew fainter, but she could still make out the words. "_Who made my blue eyes blue…_"

~*~

  Laine waited maybe ten minutes before she went downstairs for breakfast. It was still quite early, but she figured a nice, leisurely breakfast was just the thing to have before double astronomy. She couldn't help but laugh silently at herself when she found that she was humming.

  "Stupid song," she murmured moments before she found herself humming once again. By the time she entered the hall, she was grinning stupidly, still humming. "It was you, who made my blue eyes blue…" she sang quietly as she slid into the seat next to Ron.

  He was inexplicably pale as he turned to look at her. "What-" he choked. "What song is that?"

  Laine shrugged. "I don't know, I heard someone singing it upstairs. I kind of like it. Do you know it?"

  "Um…yeah, actually, I do. Hermione lent me one of those…EG things…"

  "CD?" Laine asked.

  "Huh? Oh right. Yeah, that's it," His ears burned pink. "She found a charm in some book she was reading that lets you listen to it, even though the machine that Muggles use to play it won't work here. It's kind of cool."

  "Oh," Laine grinned. "I'll have to see what she has, see if she'll let me borrow one, I left my CDs at Mordremark, because I didn't think that they'd work here."

  "Mordremark?" Ron asked, drawing a blank.

  "Family manor," Laine explained, grabbing a bagel from the basket closest to her. Ron nodded understanding. "Who does sing that song, anyway? I know I recognize it…"

  "Um...Aaron Clackturn?" Ron asked.

  "Ah. Eric Clapton."

  Ron just shook his head. "You're amazing."

  "Thank you?" Laine asked. "Although why, I can't understand. But hey, to each his own…or," she added as an afterthought. "_Her_ own."

  Ron laughed with her, passing the cream cheese before she could ask for it. "You're not at all like the rest of your family."

  "Oh, I don't know about that, Uncle Sirius is a fairly level-headed bloke."

  All the color drained from Ron's face, and Harry, who had just arrived and was draining a goblet of juice, choked, spitting it out onto Hermione, who had just arrived.

  Hermione looked down at her robes, then back at Harry. "Wonderful," she sighed, turning back the way she had come. "Back to the dormitory, then."

  "You," Harry sputtered. "Know Sirius Black?"

  "Well…" Laine shrugged. "He's technically a cousin, but I've always called him Uncle. I've only ever met him once, though. On a family visit to Azkaban. Mother wanted to visit aunt Bellatrix." Silence met her statement. "You know, I have to be honest, from what I know about my Uncle, I'd say he'd never have done the things they say he did. Call me crazy, but I don't think he'd be capable of betraying a friend as close as James was, then turning around and killing innocent people in broad daylight. I just don't think he did it." There was silence again. Harry and Ron were just looking at her, matching expressions of incredulity on their faces. She blushed, ducking her head a little. "Yeah, you probably think I'm completely off my rocker now…"

  "No," Harry said quietly.

  "No?" She looked up, locking eyes with him.

  He smiled and shook his head. "I don't think you're crazy at all." Laine beamed at him, while Ron shot him a poisonous look.

  Laine jumped up, realizing she had forgotten her books in the common room. "I'll see you guys at lunch." She dashed out of the room, passing Hermione as she went.

  Hermione sat down across from the two boys, obviously not noticing the expressions on their faces. "So," She said smiling. "What did I miss?"

  "This just in," Harry said, imitating a Muggle newscaster. "There is hope for the wizarding race after all: A Malfoy, who happens to be a relative of the accused thinks he's innocent."

  "And the accused is?" Hermione asked, not quite following.

  "Snuffles," Ron said simply, finishing off his eggs. "And technically, she's not full-blooded witch." Harry and Hermione just looked at him. He shrugged. "She's part veela, remember."

  Hermione gasped theatrically. "A Malfoy not pureblooded, never!"

  "Oh, indeed, but is it the Malfoy side of the family or her mother's?"

  "Or maybe it's neither." The boys stared at Hermione blankly. She sighed, shaking her head. "Nevermind."

  Draco walked past them, shaking his head as he left the hall. If only they knew about Laine's real father. If only _she_ knew.

~*~


	5. A Change of Pace

Title: A Change of Pace  
  
Authors: Destria and Darkrose (moonstorm148@yahoo.com)  
  
Series: Other Side of the Mirror (Part 5)  
  
Note: The story takes place during Harry and co.'s 5th year. And, as far as we're concerned, OotP never happened. So, if you haven't read it, you're in no danger of catching spoilers.okay, maybe one or two.  
  
~*~  
  
As she was leaving the hall, she literally ran into Professor McGonagall, who asked to see Laine in her office before lunch. Laine nodded sheepishly, then continued her sprint towards the Gryffindor tower. After she grabbed her things and made it to Astronomy (barely on time), she spent the rest of the morning wondering.Okay, worrying, about what it was McGonagall wanted to talk to her about. Maybe the sorting hat had changed its' mind.Maybe her father had written the school and was pulling her out.  
  
Not soon enough, it was lunchtime. She sprinted through the crowded corridor towards McGonagall's office. She reached the door and stood outside until she regained her composure, then knocked. A muffled voice called from inside and timidly she opened the door.  
  
"You wanted to see me?" Laine asked quietly.  
  
"Oh, yes, come in dear." Laine blinked at the endearment, but moved inside; sitting down in a plush chair upholstered in green tartan. McGonagall smiled from behind her spectacles. "I just need to finish this letter, then I'll be right with you." Laine nodded, smiling, and looked around the room.  
  
The House and Quidditch cups glinted at her from a high shelf of one of many built-in bookcases that lined McGonagall's walls. She had three exceptionally large windows on one side, revealing a spectacular view of the lake and the forest. A fire crackled cheerfully in a hearth, next to the door Laine had entered through. It was very cozy in here, calming, even. Although she imagined it could be quite intimidating if one was in trouble. The shadows cast by the fire and dark woods absorbing most of the light could seem very ominous; or so she imagined.  
  
"Well, then. I won't keep you long, and I know you're probably anxious to be getting to lunch," Laine nodded faintly. "I wonder how you would feel about a schedule change."  
  
"A schedule change?" Laine asked, confused.  
  
"Well," McGonagall seemed rather uncomfortable. "We've never done this before." Laine sighed. She didn't need to have any more exceptions made for her. "To put not too fine a point on it girl, your marks in both Muggle Studies and Transfiguration are remarkable, better than many of my seventh year students. We think that it might be better to move you up a year in both of those classes."  
  
Laine could only blink at her. Move into the fifth year Transfiguration and Muggle Studies? Of course she'd do it! She'd been practically bored out of her mind in both of those classes since they began. 'Yes!' She wanted to yell, but instead, she simply asked, "How is this going to change my schedule?"  
  
McGonagall looked pleased that Laine wasn't jumping at the chance, and explained that it was quite simple, really. "The only thing that is changing is the days you have lessons. At present, you have Transfiguration on," McGonagall referred to the piece of heavy parchment before her. "Monday and Friday mornings at 10:30. That will be when you will have your new Muggle Studies classes, and the time when you had your Muggle Studies will be when you have Transfiguration." she trailed off, looking once more at the parchment, "Tuesday and Thursday at 10:30."  
  
Laine was quiet for a moment: pensive. Then she smiled. "When do I start?"  
  
~*~  
  
She felt like she could sing as she dashed into the Great Hall, waving a new schedule and grinning, her long blonde hair streaming out behind her like a banner. When she sat down next to Hermione, the boys looked at her, disgust evident in their expressions.  
  
"What're you so happy about?" Ron asked. He seemed to be the one always left with that question. Laine could only shove the piece of paper at him, as her grin grew wider still. He looked at it, then back at her, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "You.Switched.Class periods?"  
  
Laine couldn't help but laugh. "Something like that," she told him, still extraordinarily happy. Hermione shook her head at both of them, thumbing through her copy of "Hogwarts: A History". "What're you looking for Hermione?" She asked before attacking an apple with gusto.  
  
"Oh, just re-reading. Not looking for anything in particular."  
  
Laine raised an eyebrow at Harry and Ron, who both shrugged. Hermione was a law unto herself.  
  
~*~  
  
The rest of the week passed in what Laine would consider a blur, including the weekend. All too soon, it was Monday. It felt like the first day of term all over again, which, in a sense, it was. She was starting in her new Muggle Studies class...after potions, of course. McGonagall had thought it would be better to start her new classes at the beginning of a week, so that she didn't arrive in the middle of an assignment. The switch was going to wreak enough havoc with her marks as it was.  
  
She bounced out of bed as early as ever, excited and nervous at the same time. She quickly braided her hair and coiled it onto her head in a bun. Snape deliberately tortured the girls who had long hair and the audacity to wear it down in his class. She had discovered this first-hand last Friday when he 'accidentally' nudged her as he walked by, and a bit of her hair catching fire from the flames heating her cauldron.  
  
Nodding at her reflection, Laine tiptoed down the staircase and into the common room. Every day she had come out earlier than usual, and waited to see if her mysterious singer would give her another performance. But as of yet, her attempts had been in vain. She sighed, briefly looking around the common room as she settled her books in her bag. Then she bolted out the portrait hole; startling the Fat Lady, who protested groggily, "Off with her head!"  
  
~*~  
  
At breakfast, Laine had a hard time sitting still. She tried forcing herself to concentrate on reciting the American presidents in order from Washington to the current Bush, but kept getting hung up after Lincoln. By then, Ron had oozed out of bed, complaining bitterly about dratted Mondays anyway. He was equally disgusted with her energy as well as her brilliant smile. Although, he teased her less than he did Hermione, who was always cheery in the mornings.  
  
Lain did notice, however, that throughout the meal, Harry and Hermione, who for once didn't have a book in her clutches, kept exchanging very knowing glances. Irritatingly knowing glances. She decided she'd bug Hermione about it later. In the meantime, she had a Potions lesson to survive and a new Muggle Studies class to alienate.  
  
~*~  
  
Well, Potions had been abysmal, as usual. For some reason unbeknownst to her, Snape actually seemed to like her. She stifled the urge to shudder. It was scary. She had slipped out of the dungeon as fast as she possibly could, narrowly avoiding a confrontation with the Professor. Laine walked as fast as she could to get to Muggle Studies early and not be yelled at for running.  
  
Even after dodging hordes of other students, Laine still managed to be the second person in class, the first being a girl hidden behind a large book. Laine walked over and cleared her throat. 'Excuse me, but would you mind if I-" her voice escaped her as the girl looked up. "Hermione!"  
  
"Laine," Hermione blinked, not sounding incredibly surprised. "What're you doing in her?"  
  
She slid into the seat next to Hermione and explained the re-scheduling McGonagall had done. Nodding her understanding, Hermione grinned at her. It was clear from her expression that she wondered which other class had been toyed with. Laine smiled back, her face adorned with an expression of pure mischief.  
  
The rest of the room had filled up around them, buzzing with conversation, some of it about the new girl in class, though most of it was about test marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It seemed many of them had just come from there, and were anxiously awaiting the results of said test.  
  
The Muggle Studies Professor smiled when he called them to order, briefly introducing Laine, then opening a discussion about Muggle forms of communication. Towards the end of class, he removed a small beige machine from a cabinet next to his desk, setting it where everyone could see.  
  
"This," he said grinning. "Is a telephone. I want a foot long essay about the uses, misuses, and reasons for the use of a telephone by next class." Many of the students grumbled, while a few actually looked excited. Hermione had her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Laine had to stuff a fist in her mouth to keep from doing the same. Telephones, indeed.  
  
~*~  
  
"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing with his apple at the essay Hermione was working on.  
  
"My essay for Muggle Studies," she replied absently, hissing as an unwanted blob of ink dripped onto her parchment.  
  
"Whazzit 'bout?" he said around a mouthful of fruit.  
  
"Swallow before talking to me, please," she answered, pulling a diagram closer to her face. "It's on the uses, misuses, and reasons for the usage of a telephone." Laine stifled laughter as Hermione quoted exactly what their professor had said.  
  
"Why write an essay about a fellytone?" Ron asked Harry honestly.  
  
"Telephone," he corrected.  
  
"Whatever," Ron waved his apple again. "Why're you doing homework now, anyway? It's a beautiful day outside, and the sun hasn't set. We could go for a walk around the lake before dinner."  
  
"I have work to do, Ron. As do you, if you'll care to remember?" Hermione protested.  
  
"Eh, we've got all the time after dinner to work on it, besides, we don't have those classes for at least a day. I'll do it tomorrow."  
  
Hermione sighed irritably. It was obviously a battle long-fought, and long lost on her side. "You go ahead, I want to finish this before dinner if at all possible. I only need another inch or so."  
  
"So write bigger," Harry suggested. Hermione's head snapped up, and she looked at him with such an appalled expression that he quailed. "Fine, fine, I take it back."  
  
"Why don't you and Laine go, Ron?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. Ron paled a little and Harry tried not to snicker.Much. "She's done with all of her work."  
  
"Oh.Well, I suppose we cou- wait a minute! Someone finishing his or her homework before the great, wondrous Hermione Granger?" Ron sounded impressed. "In that case," he bowed to Laine, making every girl in the room giggle incessantly. "I would consider it a privilege to escort such an extraordinary young lady around the lake." He gallantly offered his arm.  
  
Laine, her cheeks turning slightly pink, glared daggers at Hermione and Harry. Now she knew what they had been plotting- public humiliation. Was it because she was younger and in Hermione's classes, or was it because she was a Malfoy, or was it simply because they could? "I would be glad to," she pitched her voice to carry, giving it the authoritative tone that was instilled in every Malfoy at birth.  
  
Ron looked surprised when she accepted his arm. "Right," he squeaked. "I mean, uh, right. Let's be off, then, shall we?" They waved airily at their companions, then slipped out through the portrait hole.  
  
"PDA!" The Fat Lady yelled indignantly as they marched down the hallway, Laine's hand still about Ron's arm. "PDA!"  
  
They managed to get about fifteen yards away before they both started cracking up. Laine leaning against a wall for support and sunk to the floor when her knees went out beneath her. Tears were streaming from corners of her eyes; she was laughing so hard. Her mirth subsided just enough for her to see Ron in a similar predicament, although he wasn't crying or sitting down.yet.  
  
"That," she gasped for air. "Was so funny! Hilarious!" Ron nodded mutely. "Although." Laine's giggles had all but subsided. "With what the Fat Lady was screaming, Drano's going to kick your butt."  
  
"Drano?" Ron snorted.  
  
Laine grinned. "I was writing him an email, and the spell-checker suggested that I change Draco to." She stopped at Ron's confused look. "Never mind, Just think of this: Drano is a cleaner Muggles use to unclog pipes."  
  
That startled Ron into laughter.  
  
"Ooooooh." Laine nodded. "Yep, Drano's definitely going to kick your butt!"  
  
"Well," Ron managed to croak. "Let him try. I am a great deal taller than him, you know."  
  
"All the better to aim for, my dear," Laine said grinning.  
  
Ron didn't get the reference, but he laughed anyway. "So how about that walk?" He asked after a moment, when both of them were a bit calmer.  
  
Laine studied his face, then grinned. "Lead on, captain my captain. There's just one small problem."  
  
"What's that?" Ron asked, expecting another comical remark.  
  
"I don't think I can get up." Laine's face and voice were perfectly serious.  
  
"Oh.Well, I can help you with that."  
  
"HALLELUJAH!" She shouted, accenting her voice to sound like a person from the Southeastern United States. "PRAISE JESUS! MY SAVIOR HAS RETURNED!"  
  
Ron took a step back. "Maybe I should leave you there.until you're a bit sober at least."  
  
Laine waved a hand. "Nah, what fun would that be?" He raised an eyebrow. She stuck out her bottom lip and turned on the innocent, deer-in-the- headlights look. "Who could resist this face?"  
  
"Obviously not me," Ron murmured, stepping forward to help her up. "Let's just hope that our resident prefects don't decide to walk by right now, eh?"  
  
"That could be bad."  
  
"Indeed." He offered her his hands, grasping her wrists tightly. "Okay, on three. One.two.three!" He pulled and she gave about as much effort as she could.which wasn't much, but it still succeeded in vaulting her up off of the floor. "Whoa, there!" As fate had it, she had catapulted straight into Ron, and, as reflex, his arms had closed about her. "Hello," he murmured softly.  
  
"Hi," she whispered sheepishly.  
  
"Honestly, I think we should try marketing them down in Hogsm-" the familiar voice stopped. "Are we interrupting something, little Bro?" George asked, his grin obvious in the tone of his voice.  
  
"Because if you'd like a bit more privacy, may I suggest the comfort of our very own Common room, only about twelve yards away?" Fred added wickedly.  
  
"Fifteen." George corrected.  
  
"Whatever," the other twin snapped.  
  
Laine twisted in Ron's involuntary embrace (that oddly enough had not loosened in the slightest) so she could see the twins. "But it's so much more comfortable out here, without all those prying eyes. Besides, you are interrupting." She reached up, putting her hands behind Ron's head. "Now, if you'll excuse us." she turned back to Ron, and pulled his face towards hers, kissing him gently, but making it look much more passionate than it really was.  
  
After a moment she pulled away, smiling sweetly at Ron. "Thanks, sweetie. We can finish this later, okay?" She kissed him on the cheek, whispering 'raincheck on that walk, all right?' in his ear, then waved to the twins. Then she sauntered over to the portrait hole, whispering the password to the Fat Lady and entered; leaving the twins to stare at Ron in a mixture of shock and approval.  
  
~*~  
  
"Daaaaaaaaaang," Fred grinned as the portrait closed behind Laine.  
  
George merely whistled.  
  
"How did you snag a girl like her?" Fred asked, slinging an arm around Ron's neck.  
  
"I have no clue."  
  
"Ron, dear, we knew that," George slung his arm over Ron's shoulder from the other side. "Still though.Mrrrrrrrrrrrrow."  
  
"Hey!" Ron exclaimed indignantly.  
  
"Wait a second, isn't that Malfoy's little sister?"  
  
"Um.Yeah?" Both of the twins looked at him with haunted looks. "So what?" Ron asked.  
  
"Hmm.too bad," George sighed. "She is FINE."  
  
George shook his head. "Do no, I repeat, do NOT let her brother find out."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Fred shook his head. "Poor ignorant boy..Think of it this way- what would be your first reaction if you found out that Ginny was banging.oh.say, Crabbe?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "She's got better taste than that."  
  
"Okay, fine," George inserted irritably. "Say it was Harry."  
  
Instantly, Ron's temper flared. "I'd kill him."  
  
"Exactly," the twins said in unison.  
  
"So," Fred said conversationally as they approached the Fat Lady.  
  
"Don't let Draco find out." George finished. "Okay?"  
  
"Um.okay." Ron replied uncertainly.  
  
"Bizarre Circumstances," Fred told the Fat Lady with a grin.  
  
She nodded curtly as she swung open. "They certainly are!"  
  
~*~  
  
Ron was pacing. And had been pacing for some time. For hours, in fact. He was beginning to drive Harry stark raving mad. He had barely eaten dinner, kept tapping absently on anything he could get his hands on. He hadn't looked Laine in the eye since their little 'walk', and most of all, had not spoken a single WORD all evening.  
  
Hermione had kicked him out of the Common room, he was so irritating. Harry was tempted to try and kick him our of their room, but he knew it would never work.  
  
"All right, ENOUGH!" He shouted, startling Ron out of his self-imposed trance enough to simply give him a blank look. "You haven't spoken, barely ate, and are driving all of us MAD. What is going on?"  
  
Ron only blinked.  
  
"And," Harry continued significantly, figuring this would get him to talk. "You haven't looked at Laine once since you came back this afternoon."  
  
Ron paled and sat down with a huge sigh. "That's not entirely true."  
  
"HA!" Harry shot back, crossing his arms. "You usually can't take your eyes off the girl, and if you've really looked at her more than twice since this afternoon, I'll eat my hat."  
  
"Okay, you win." Ron sighed again. "Well, okay, here's what happened." He trailed off, either lost in his own thoughts or deciding where to begin.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"What? Oh.Oh, right.Well, you saw us walk out, trying to show you all up with the whole gallantry act and everything." he trailed off again.  
  
"RON!" Harry said sharply.  
  
"I'm getting there, I'm getting there, keep your shirt on." He took a deep breath and continued. "So the Fat Lady sees us, arm in arm as it were, and started screaming 'PDA! PDA!' Then we were, eh, fifteen yards from the Portrait when we started just losing it," he looked at the expression on Harry's face- somewhere between hilarity and incredulity- and wrinkled his nose. "Not like that! We were laughing.she laughed so hard that she sank to the floor, crying."  
  
"Crying?" Harry interjected.  
  
"Because she was laughing so hard, you nitwit."  
  
"Oh. Go on, then."  
  
"Anyway, after we had calmed down a bit, I offered to help her up."  
  
"Ooh, the plot thickens," Harry murmured, too much like Ginny for comfort.  
  
Ron sighed. "So, I grabbed her wrists, we counted to three." he shrugged. "She pushed up off the floor and I pulled her at the same time, and.well.she was basically." he stumbled over the words.  
  
"Spit it out, already!"  
  
"Well, for lack of a better word, she was launched into my arms, all right?"  
  
"She was what?" Harry squealed.  
  
Ron flushed. "Mmhmm. Then Fred and George walked up."  
  
"Perfect timing, as ever."  
  
"Naturally. They wanted to know if they were interrupting anything.I was too shocked to say anything. So Laine, quick as you please, as quirky and outspoken as ever replies that yes, as a matter of fact they were and casual as can be, she pulls me down to kisses me!"  
  
Harry gave a whoop of triumph. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I BLOODY KNEW IT!"  
  
"Get off it, Harry, she was just acting."  
  
"Well, then she must be a damn good actress. Then what happened?"  
  
"Well, then she says, "we can finish this later, sweetie," kisses me on the cheek, and saunters over to the portrait hole."  
  
"She called you sweetie?" Harry asked, his voice rather shrill. Ron couldn't tell if he was laughing or impressed.  
  
"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "Lucky me."  
  
"Hell yes, lucky you!"  
  
"Excuse me?" Ron gave him a sharp look.  
  
"Well, she may be a Malfoy, but she's gorgeous, everyone agrees-"  
  
Ron groaned. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."  
  
"Oh shut up and listen to me. So honestly, it's not just you with your eye on her. Even Seamus has made a few rather.erm.compromising remarks."  
  
Ron just stared at him blankly.  
  
"Obviously not to her face, or Seamus would be in a very sorry state. Anyway," he said quickly, abruptly changing the subject. "Let's review the evidence." He started ticking off his fingers. "She consented to go on a walk alone with you, she took your arm, she let you help her up-"  
  
"Actually she asked me to help her up," Ron murmured faintly.  
  
"Exactly. Anyway- she kissed you, she kissed you again, called you sweetie.have I missed anything?"  
  
Indeed he had, the fact that the two of them had stood there hugging silently for a moment, incredibly close to eachother before the twins had arrived, that and what she had whispered before sauntering off.but Ron had, erm, 'neglected' to tell Harry that teeny, tiny, insignificant little detail.  
  
"Nope, that's about it," He said quietly.  
  
"About?"  
  
"That's it, Harry, drop it."  
  
"Oh, but it's so fun."  
  
"I'm so sure. I'm going to bed. We have to deal with Snape tomorrow."  
  
"Right," Harry agreed. "Good idea."  
  
After the lights were off and both of them were in bed, Ron finally let himself grin uncontrollably into his pillow. He was, after all, safe under the cover of darkness.  
  
"G'night, Ron," he heard from the next bed over.  
  
"Indeed it is, Harry. Indeed it is," he murmured to himself, pressing fingers to lips that still tingled delightfully and remembering the clean scent of her hair.It had turned out to be a very goof night after all.  
  
~*~  
  
End part 5. 


End file.
